Battery of Tests
by Miss Scarlet
Summary: Michael takes a moment before the final of the American Tournament to confront his feelings - and ends up with much more than he bargained for. In response to Guardian's Kai/Michael yaoi challenge.


**Battery of Tests**

Miss Scarlet

"I'm not afraid of you," Kai said flatly, looking past the other boy and into the stadium beyond. He raised his chin, defiant.

"You should be," Michael sneered. "Nobody stands a chance against me. Or any of the_ All Stars_," he added hastily. The roar of the crowd was somewhat muted, yet still close. A few steps more would take them both into the open arena, in full view of the hordes of fans. The arena itself was blisteringly hot; the Nevada desert proudly displaying its strength.

Kai laughed softly, radiating quiet confidence. "Think what you like. Now get out of my way, I have a tournament to win."

"Not so fast. Nobody speaks to me like that," Michael snapped, extending an arm to block Kai's path. He tossed his head, fuming. It was true, nobody _did_. Emily would snap at him like the petulant brat she was, but he knew she was impressed with his ability. His other team-mates practically worshipped him, and his enemies loathed and feared him without exception.

He'd never met anyone who just didn't care. Until now.

Michael couldn't understand it. Kai had witnessed his last battle – he had seen his graceful and impressive descent from the plane, seen his flawless victory – and yet Kai just didn't give a damn. Their match would start in minutes – perhaps it had already started, he didn't know – but he had to prove himself to this- this _nobody_.

Ah, but that was it, wasn't it? Kai _wasn't_ a nobody. He'd tried to convince himself of it dozens of times, but could never bring himself to tear his thoughts or his eyes from the older boy. What did that say about him? Whenever they were together, it was Kai he singled out, Kai he attacked. Kai must have noticed his irrational behaviour – he'd have to be blind not to. So this was it. Michael was confronting his fears and his worries and other things that wriggled in his gut whenever he thought about them. And Kai was going to see the error of his ways. 

"Get out of my way," Kai repeated with unnatural stillness; calm, unruffled despite the intense heat and bright lights. Each syllable fell heavily into place, intimidating despite his lack of emotion.

He didn't move. He wouldn't. Those icy, uncaring eyes met his and eyed him levelly – no respect, no fear, no hatred. Kai's lips slid into a derisive smirk, but he said nothing. Michael breathed out heavily, dragging a hand through his wayward brown hair, taking stock of his opponent. Yes, perhaps that would work, if he saw this as just another battle. And he _always_ won his battles.

Distantly he heard a voice over the speakers, the words drifting to his through a sudden stillness that had descended between them. "And it seems that the captains of both teams have not showed up, folks! We can't spare any more time so we're going to go ahead with the scheduled matches – up first is Tyson" The noise faded, nothing else mattered then but the gentle, teasing smile on Kai's face.

"Now look here," Michael began, fighting down his frustration and looking Kai straight in the eye. "Perhaps you didn't understand the first time. Nobody is allowed to speak to me like that. Got it? _Nobody_."

Disinterest flickered airily across Kai's face. "And what are you going to do about it?"

Uncertainly decided it was time to make its presence felt. Michael hesitated, following the bitter cold of Kai's gaze at it travelled down to his arm, which suddenly felt frail and weak and in the wrong place entirely. A moment of sheer helplessness and the Michael's natural resilience bounced back. He wasn't giving up that easily.

"I'm going to win," Michael replied firmly, raising his head to stare straight at Kai's face. "I'm going to humiliate you. You'll never want to blade again." He put his head on one side, his voice shaking with nerves and, to his intense dismay, fear. "That enough for you?"

Kai blinked, tilted his head backwards a little and stared at Michael appraisingly. Then he smiled. Not a smirk, but a smile of quiet amusement. Michael wasn't sure which was worse – at least the smirk didn't make his knees feel as if they were made of straw, or make his face burn as if the stadium had just gotten a lot hotter.

The older boy looked up at the ceiling for a moment, a resigned sigh escaping his lips. "You think you're good enough? Very well – we'll see just how tough you are." Kai's hand shot from nowhere and fastened itself tightly around Michael's wrist. A pause just long enough for Michael to start in surprise and then his arm was ripped away from the wall. Kai stepped sideways, reached out and flung Michael backwards bodily. He slammed against the thick concrete, a gasp of pain forcing itself from between his lips. He looked up in time to see Kai's fist hurtling towards him – _mustn't flinch, mustn't cry out, mustn't_

Nothing. Just the muted roar of a few thousand people watching an intense Beyblade battle. Michael cracked his eyes open – when had he closed them? – to see that Kai had in fact planted his fist just a few short centimetres from his exposed neck. He opened his mouth and breathed a ragged sigh, shaking uncontrollably. Just what was Kai doing? Testing him?

"Oh dear," Kai murmured, without a trace of sincerity. "That didn't go too well, did it? Not so great after all, it seems."

"I _am_," Michael muttered through gritted teeth.

Kai took a step forward, his face only a hair's breadth from Michael's own. "Then let's see how well you take this." Michael's eyes widened in alarm, and he watched helplessly as Kai ducked his head slightly and – kissed Michael's neck.

If Michael hadn't been near paralysed in shock, he swore that his legs would have given way right there and then. Once again he found his eyes shutting, though this time it wasn't through fear. He forced his teeth together and kept his head straight, nothing but the noise of the crowd and the slow burn of Kai's lips and tongue fiercely attacking his exposed skin. Yes, this was definitely a test. A rough hand took his face, tilted his head to one side. Michael stayed still complacently, hot tears welling beneath his eyelids and threatening to spill down his face. A test

He didn't know how to feel. Shocked, definitely. Angry, yes, that was what Kai wanted, he knew. But he was convinced, utterly, completely convinced, that it shouldn't feel so damned _wonderful_. It _hurt_; it hurt to feel this way. His fists clenched tightly, his fingernails digging into the soft skin of his palm. It seemed every nerve inside his body was afire, writhing in the agony of pleasure and demanding more, demanding that he feed them the passion that sustained them, stimulated them, made him feel more alive than he ever had before. 

The brutal sensuality that Kai wore like a cloak was all about him now, imperious and haughty and there was no way he could stand up to it. Kai slid over his skin like velvet yet his touch left him feeling like he'd been rasped with sandpaper. Such conflicting feelings merging into one, huge, cavernous shout that caught in his throat, condensing into swirling hot lava bubbling beneath a layer of rock, threatening to erupt and devour the world in the process.

And all the boy was doing was kissing his collarbone.

A small, hitherto unheeded part of his brain was screaming at him, yelling into its neurological megaphone and begging him to put a stop to this. What did he think he was doing? Standing in the entrance to the arena, his team waiting for him, depending on him, and here he was completely at the mercy of his opponent, fighting down a sudden, overwhelming desire to do something to this boy, this fierce, invigorating, savage boy He knew what it was he wanted to do. But if he gave in, he would lose. He would fail the test.

The hand moved to his chin, pulled his head downwards this time, and again Michael did nothing to prevent it. Michael got the sudden impression of distance as Kai drew away. No contact. He was free, if only for an instant, to do whatever he wanted. He could push away and run, or turn on the other boy for what he did and give him the beating he surely deserved. This was Kai giving him the chance to win, to pass the test, to prove that he had the strength to resist anything.

But hell he didn't have the strength. The warmth of Kai's lips had tainted him, stained him, and he still felt the insistent pressure on his neck and shoulder, still felt the irrefutable need smouldering fiercely inside of him. He didn't want to walk away. He didn't want to pass the test, if it meant leaving the cocoon of pleasure Kai had viciously constructed about him. 

"What's this? You're giving up?"

Michael opened his eyes. "No. I'm failing with style." 

"You're wha—_mmph_!"

The End


End file.
